


A Series Of Johnlock Firsts

by PrettyKitty93



Series: A Series Of Firsts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Drinking, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Implied Relationships, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Pain, Romance, Teenlock, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyKitty93/pseuds/PrettyKitty93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part One of the series. This is all about Sherlock and John's first, well, everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My First Kiss (And Hand Job)

**Author's Note:**

> P.S I changed the title ;) sorry but I have this idea in my head now of John taking Sherlock through his series of firsts in sexual encounters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have been friends since Sherlock was seven years old when John decided to befriend the 'freak'.  
> But now at seventeen, John drags Sherlock to a Christmas house party and the boys end up under the mistletoe.  
> Will Sherlock kiss his best friend because he's had a crush on him for four years or will he back out to save his friendship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this wasn't inspired by the song by 3OH!3 ft Ke$ha (just in case you thought it was ;)) xxxxx

“Come on, Sherl. It'll be fun.” The older teen says excitedly, dragging his friend off the couch by his wrist. “Now, go on. Get changed and we'll set off in a bit.”

“Fine.” Sherlock sighs dramatically, going into his wardrobe to look for appropriate clothing. “What does one wear to something like this?”

John chuckles before replying, “Sherl, we're going to a party, it's not like a formal do or anything. There's just going to be a bunch of drunk teenagers celebrating Christmas. You don't need to wear anything special.” The older teen grins before digging into his chest of drawers.

“Alright.” Sherlock replies unsurely, before going back to root through his wardrobe.

John pulls out his favourite pair of faded grey skinny jeans and his tight black shirt; deciding that the full Goth-Rock look would be a bit too much for a party.

He pulls off his t-shirt and baggy pants, throwing them into the wash basket in the bathroom as Sherlock continues to search for an outfit.

“John, do you think these ...” Sherlock breaks off as he sees his best friend walking around in his underwear.

“What?” John asks with a slight smile, confused as to what could be bothering his friend.

“Um, these, do you think they'll be okay?” Sherlock asks softly, mentally shaking himself as he blushes.

“Yeah, they look fine. You okay, Sherl?” John replies, looking at Sherlock curiously as he sees the blush on the younger teen's face.

“Fine.” Sherlock squeaks, running off to the bathroom.

John shakes his head in confusion, chuckling softly.

x..x

“So, what do you think?” John asks with a grin, once Sherlock has come out of the bathroom.

“You … You look good, John.” Sherlock replies unsurely, looking down at the floor and blushing again.

“You too.” John smiles, moving back over to his bedside table. “Have you finished in the bathroom, I'm gonna do my make up.”

“ _Who's_ getting all dressed up now.” Sherlock smirks, looking at John through his eyelashes.

“Sherl, I _always_ wear my make up. It's part of my look. You should try having a look too. Well, apart from the _lanky corpse_ look.” John grins before disappearing into the bathroom.

“John, I can hardly help it if I was born with naturally pale skin.” Sherlock replies indignantly, following his friend into the bathroom.

“How about a little eye-liner then? Or some blusher?” John grins wider, watching his friend's face through the mirror.

“Fine. Draw some eye-liner on me then.” Sherlock snaps, frowning at John.

“Don't frown, you'll get wrinkles.” John's grin drops to a playful smirk as he continues to line his eyes with the black pencil.

“So, are you going to?”

“In a minute, let me finish.” John scolds, as he adds some mascara to his fine lashes. “Right, get here then.”

“I won't look stupid, will I?”

“I'm not going to draw a clown face on you, I'm only lining your eyes.” John smiles, holding Sherlock's face gently as he applies the eye-liner.

John doesn't notice Sherlock trying to suppress the shiver down his spine as John touches his face.

“Hold still, I'm gonna add a bit of mascara too.”

“Jawn, don't go mad with it.” Sherlock whines, dropping his shoulders dramatically.

“Sherlock, we're teenagers and it's part of the rock look. Besides, we need to take _some_ attention away from that shirt.” John grins, walking back to his friend.

“What's wrong with my shirt?” Sherlock asks, his voice going up higher a few notches, before he coughs to clear his throat.

John giggles before replying, “It's deep purple and so tight it looks like you've sown yourself into it. You trying to impress someone?”

“Why … Why would I do that?”

“I dunno, considering you said that you don't date _people_. They're _idiots_ , remember?”

“Yes, well, there's nothing wrong with looking presentable.” Sherlock snaps, bringing his hands to his hips.

John giggles again, putting his make up away. “There, you're done.” He smiles, grabbing his hair gel to do his hair.

Sherlock looks in the mirror and quirks an eyebrow.

“Well, my eyes definitely stand out.” He replies softly, ruffling his hair a bit.

“That's the point, Sherlock.” John grins, styling his hair into a messy bed-head style.

Sherlock continues to ruffle his hair frustratedly as it refuses to co-operate.

“Come here.” John smiles softly, blobbing a bit of gel onto his hands and styling Sherlock's hair with it.

He sorts the mess of curls into some sort of tidiness before covering Sherlock's eyes and spraying hairspray all over the younger man's head.

“There. Perfect. Just remember to have a shower when we get back, that way your hair won't get knotted up.” John replies sweetly, running his hands under the hot water.

The older teen goes back into the bedroom to put on his skull necklace and black leather stud bracelets.

“So, I look alright then?”

“Yes, Sherlock. You look like a doll.” John replies distractedly, shoving on his boots and lacing them up.

“I look like a _what_? Never mind, where's my converse?” Sherlock asks, shaking his head and searching around their room for his shoes.

“Under the bed were you threw them last night while you were sulking.” John replies, opening another bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

“I was _not_ sulking!” Sherlock snaps, crawling under his bed to grab them. “Are you ready?”

“Yep, let's go.” John smiles, grabbing his jacket and keys.

Sherlock holds the door open for John before following him out and locking up.

x..x

“John! Can I get you a drink?” The older teen greets drunkenly, stumbling over to the two teens.

“Greg! How much have you had to drink, mate?” John grins, catching his friend as he trips and stumbles into John, nearly spilling his beer all over the other teen.

“Too much, mate! I'm fuckin' wasted. But, it's a fan-tastic party. I bloody luv it.” Greg grins, straightening himself and gripping John's shoulder for support.

“Obviously.” Sherlock mutters, rolling his eyes at the older teen.

“Sherly! Ya came! Come 'ere and give me a hug!” Greg grins, stumbling into Sherlock; who gives him an awkward hug before pushing him away.

“I told you not to call me that!” Sherlock snaps angrily.

“Aww, mate, it's only a nickname. Ya know I mean nothing by it.” Greg grins, collapsing down onto the couch.

“I'll get us some drinks, Sherl.” John smiles back at his friend and disappears into the crowd.

“Lookin' good, mate. Luv the eye-liner, really brings out your eyes.” Greg smiles, cocking his head to the side as he admires the younger teen.

“Thank you.” Sherlock replies distractedly, searching the room for John.

“Lookin' for John?” Greg grins, watching the younger teen.

“No.” Sherlock snaps, his head snapping back round to glare at Greg.

“Hey! It's alright, ya know. I understand, he's an attractive guy and you're worried people are gonna notice.” Greg shrugs, swigging back his drink.

“Why would I worry? We're not _dating_!” Sherlock scoffs, rolling his eyes again.

“Hey, guys, are we playing nice?” John teases, sitting between his two best friends, holding out a bottle of beer for Sherlock.

“Thanks.” Sherlock replies sarcastically, taking the beer anyway.

x..x

“ _Christ_ , I'm so fucked.” John giggles, grabbing his tenth beer and nudging his very drunk friend.

“Me too!” Greg giggles back, clinking their bottles together with a grin. “Ooh, guess what … I know a secret you don't know.”

“And what would that be?” John asks curiously, quirking an eyebrow at Greg.

“ _Someone's_ got a crush on you.” Greg sings, giggling stupidly.

“Who? Not Molly is it? I mean, she's cute an' everything but I don't feel that way.” John replies sheepishly, looking over at the young girl.

“Nope, someone _else_.” Greg grins, nudging John with his shoulder. “A certain _genius_.”

“What? No! Sherlock doesn't have a crush on me. Don't be daft, Greg.”

“He does. Go ask him.”

“No! I'm not gonna ask my room-mate if he fancies me! That's stupid!”

“Fine. I'll prove it.” Greg smiles, eyeing the mistletoe that's being handed around to everyone.

“What do you … Greg!”

Greg stumbles off and up to the group of teens, “Hey, can I borrow this?”

“Oooh, thinking of getting off with someone are we, Lestrade?” The young teen asks with a cheeky smirk.

“Not me, Sally. Two other people.” Greg grins, grabbing the mistletoe from her fingers.

“Oh God, you're not thinking of setting John up with the _freak_ , are you?”

“They're perfect together. And you know it. No one puts up with Sherlock like John does. And John totally fancies Sherlock, no matter how many times he denies it.”

“Well, maybe it will stop him being such a freak, having a distraction. Well, good luck.”

Greg just chuckles and begins to walk off; holding the mistletoe above everyone.

He's stopped when lips meet his own; soft and gentle, and experimental.

Greg moans a little into the lips, eyes closing and hand reaching out for the stranger's waist.

“Mycroft Holmes. Nice to meet you, _Gregory_.” The stranger whispers suggestively into Greg's ear before softly kissing his neck.

“Stay right here, I'll be right back.” Greg whispers back, trying to suppress a moan.

“I'll be waiting.” Mycroft whispers, his tone still suggestive as his hand touches Greg's waist and moves down lower.

“You better be.” Greg smirks, giving him a wink before walking off.

“John, Sherlock. Good, you're both here.” Greg grins, holding up the mistletoe.

“Lestrade, piss off. We are _not_ going to take part in that crappy tradition.” Sherlock snaps, glaring at Greg.

“Stop being soft. You both know you wanna do it. You're mad for each other, anyone can see it.”

“Sherl, let's just get it over with. You know he'll just be a dick about it all night.” John sighs, dragging himself up off the couch.

“Fine!” Sherlock snaps, pulling himself up off the couch as well.

“It doesn't have to be a snog or anything. Just longer than twenty seconds.” Greg replies, unsuccessfully trying to suppress his amused smirk.

“Let's do this.” John sighs, standing closer to Sherlock.

He leans in slowly, pressing his lips to Sherlock's softly. Sherlock responds slowly, moving his lips slightly to accommodate the height difference.

Greg backs up slowly, turning around to go find Mycroft Holmes; hoping to kiss him properly this time.

Sherlock rests his hand on John's waist, pulling him closer and nipping at his lip experimentally.

John moans softly and presses his body flush against Sherlock's and resting both his hands on the other's hips.

Sherlock brings his other hand up to the back of John's neck as the older teen's tongue runs teasingly across Sherlock's lips. The younger teen opens his mouth and allows John's tongue to roam his mouth; causing them both to moan softly.

Tentatively, John brings a hand up to Sherlock's curls, tangling his fingers in them and pushing his head slightly so the kiss deepens. Sherlock's eyes flutter and he feels like his brain is going fuzzy, caught up in the moment, in John.

John reluctantly pulls away, finally breathing properly and stares at the younger teen.

“That was my first kiss.” Sherlock whispers, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

John chuckles and kisses his nose lightly, “You're so cute when you blush.”

“Oh.” Sherlock squeaks, looking down as he blushes a darker red.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” John smiles, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Urg, Mycroft is making out with Lestrade!” Sherlock growls, snapping his head back towards the door and allowing John to drag him out.

“Shut up.” John giggles, pinning Sherlock to the wall and shoving his tongue down his throat.

“Mm, John.” Sherlock replies, breaking the kiss, “I thought we were leaving.”

“You're right.” John continues to giggle, “Let's go.”

x..x

“You're really breath-taking, you know that, right?” John asks softly, hovering over Sherlock; who's lying on John's bed.

“Don't be stupid, John. You're drunk. You won't remember this in the morning.”

“I might not, but _you_ can remind me what your lips taste like tomorrow.” John grins, leaning down to kiss Sherlock again.

“I just don't want you to regret this, John.” Sherlock whispers sadly, resting his hands on John's hips.

“What's there to regret, Sherl, I like you. Have done for a while actually. Shame no one was ever convinced with me lying. I thought they might end up telling you and you'd switch rooms.” John replies, kissing Sherlock's neck slowly.

“Jawn … are you sure? I mean … I wouldn't _want …_ ” Sherlock's voice cracks as John's tongue runs from his collar bone up his neck and to his ear teasingly.

“Stop thinking so much, babe. It's _annoying_ me.” John whispers softly, continuing to lick Sherlock's neck.

“What did you call me?” Sherlock squeaks, eyes going wide.

“ _Babe_. Now get over it. If you hadn't noticed, I'm not drunk anymore and I'm extremely horny. Now, shut up and kiss me.” John smirks and before Sherlock can reply, he dives his tongue into Sherlock's mouth again.

Sherlock moans into John's mouth before blushing as he realises that his erection is probably digging into the older teen's thigh and he can feel it. He pushes John off and dives off the bed in a flash.

“Hey, what's up? I thought we were having fun.” John whispers softly, looking rejected.

“John, it's not you ...”

“No! Don't say that! _Everyone_ says that! It's not you, it's me … and then they walk out on you! I can't have that from you, Sherlock! We've been best friends for years ...”

“No, John. Really, it is _me._ ” Sherlock replies awkwardly, looking down at his pants and trying to make John understand. “I mean, _look_.” He sighs, walking back over to John.

“What do you … Oh, right.” John stutters, seeing Sherlock's erection through his pants. “I … Um, okay.”

“Is this supposed to happen just from a kiss?” Sherlock whispers softly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“When we kissed, you said it was your first kiss. So, you've never, ya know, _done_ anything with anyone before?”

“No.”

“Did you … _like_ kissing me?” John asks awkwardly, twitching his hands on his lap.

“Yes! I did. I really liked it, John. I've wanted to kiss you for so long now. Um, I've … had a crush on you for a few years now.” Sherlock replies, whispering the last part.

“Oh. You have? Right, well that's good. So, do you want to kiss again?”

“If you want to. And if you're sure that you won't regret it in the morning.”

“Sherlock, I've fancied you for _years_ too. I never wanted to tell you because I thought you'd walk out on me.”

“Never, John! I would never walk out on you! You're my best friend. You're my _only_ friend.”

“Well then, where were we?” John smirks, crawling back over to his friend.

“John, what are you … _Jawn_.” Sherlock moans as John's lips find his neck again, gently nipping and licking.

“Just relax, baby. Let it happen. I got you.” John replies softly, resting his hands on Sherlock's hips.

“Baby?” Sherlock squeaks.

“Are you going deaf or do you just have selective hearing?” John chuckles, the vibrations humming through Sherlock's body.

“Apologies.” Sherlock moans, bringing a hand up to John's shoulder.

“Good boy.” John grins against Sherlock's neck.

He nips a little harder at Sherlock's neck and the younger teen bucks his hips up.

“Jawn, I think I'm going to ...” Sherlock moans, embarrassment showing on his face.

“It's okay, baby. Let it happen.” John soothes gently, his hand slowly moving Sherlock's belt.

“John, I'm not ready.” Sherlock whispers, grabbing John's wandering hand.

“I'll make it good for you, I promise. It's alright. I got you, Sherl.” John whispers into Sherlock's ear, his hand pulling the strap through the buckle.

Sherlock's hand moves back up to John's arm and the younger teen tries to relax.

John tugs Sherlock's jeans and boxers down a little way, pulling Sherlock's erection out. Sherlock freezes up and his breath quickens.

“You trust me, right?” John asks unsurely, looking up into his friend's eyes.

“Of course.” Sherlock replies softly, leaning in to kiss John.

John's hand starts to work on Sherlock slowly, preventing the younger teen from worrying. Sherlock moans into John's lips, indicating for him to go faster.

The older teen smiles and moves his hand faster, moaning softly into his friend's lips happily. Sherlock's continuous moans encourage him to go even faster and in a few minutes John feels Sherlock spasm as he comes in John's hand.

John smiles softly, pulling away from Sherlock and bringing his hand up to his face. His tongue darts out to lick experimentally at his fingers, causing Sherlock to moan loudly.

“Mmm, you taste as good as you look.” John grins back at Sherlock, cleaning the last of the sticky substance off his fingers.

“That was … _nice_.” Sherlock smiles sleepily, looking at John through half-closed eyes.

“I told you I'd make it good for you, baby. And it was, wasn't it? I bet you've been wanting to do that for a while. I _also_ bet you've been wanting to do something _else_ for a while too, haven't you?” John smirks suggestively, looking Sherlock in the eyes.

“Um.”

“When you saw me earlier, I bet you wanted to just _fuck me_ right into this mattress, didn't you? Wanted to strip me naked and have me, _right before_ that party. Didn't you, Sherl?”

“Yes.” Sherlock replies huskily, reaching out to touch John's chest; glad that he can finally look _and_ touch.

“Maybe some other time. Right now, we should sleep. We have a long day of learning tomorrow.”

“It's Christmas day, we don't have school.” Sherlock replies in a confused tone.

“I didn't say we would be learning _school work_.” John grins, leaning in and kissing Sherlock.

“Oh. Well, I guess I better get back to my own bed then.” Sherlock replies awkwardly, sitting up.

“Who said? Because I know I didn't.” John continues to grin, pushing Sherlock back down.

“So, you want me to sleep _here_? In bed … with you?” Sherlock squeaks, his eyes wide.

“If you want to. But I warn you, I sleep _naked_.”

Sherlock moans loudly, throwing his hand over his eyes.

John starts to pull off his shirt, just as Sherlock looks back up again and stares intently at his friend.

“Like what you see?” John asks innocently, fluttering his eyelashes at Sherlock.

“Very.” Sherlock moans and if he hadn't just orgasmed then he's sure he would now.

“Good.” John smiles, pulling the shirt from his shoulders slowly.

Sherlock tugs his jeans and boxers off in one, throwing them off the side of the bed before remembering how sticky he is.

He reaches over to the bedside table and pulls off the box of tissues, cleaning himself up quickly.

“Someone's eager.” John chuckles, smiling at his new lover.

“Should we get a shower?” Sherlock asks suddenly, remembering about the gel in his hair.

“What? Oh, your hair … We'll get one in the morning, Sherl. It's time to sleep now.” John replies softly, pulling off his jeans and boxers, throwing them off the bed.

Sherlock nods in agreement, suddenly very sleepy as he pulls off his own shirt.

John smiles softly, curling into Sherlock's side as he switches off the lamp.

“So does this mean that we're _together_?” Sherlock whispers softly, running his fingers across John's forehead.

“Baby, I think in some way, we were always _together_.” John replies sleepily, relaxing into Sherlock's touch.

x..x

**4am**

John startles awake suddenly, trying to remember where he is.

“Wow, that was a really nice dream. But just a dream.” John sighs to himself, rubbing his eyes.

“Jawn, who talkin' to?” A voice whispers sleepily, rolling over into John.

“Sherlock? Oh God, I'm still asleep.”

“Y' should be.” Sherlock mutters again, snuggling down under the covers.

“Wait, I'm _not_ dreaming?” John asks in a shocked voice.

“No, John and 'm tryin' to sleep.” Sherlock mumbles, pulling the covers over his head.

“Thank fuck for that.” John grins, flopping back down onto the bed and wrapping Sherlock in his arms.

Sherlock sighs happily and wraps his arms around John tightly, nuzzling his neck.

“Goodnight, my love.” John whispers, kissing Sherlock's forehead and burying his face in his curls.


	2. My First Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, it's the morning after and John still can't believe what happened between himself and his best friend.   
> But will Sherlock want to take the relationship further?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to call this My First Blow Job but after the re-naming of the first chapter, I thought I'd try a classier approach. That and the fact that the boys spend more time talking about how they should progress than spending the morning giving each other blow jobs ;)  
> The blow job is just a bonus and a distraction ;) xxxxx

“Morning, babe.” The older teen grins down at his best friend.

“Urg.” Sherlock groans, rolling over and burying himself further into the blanket.

“Come on. Get up, lazy bones.” John chuckles, poking Sherlock's ribs playfully.

“Urg.” Sherlock groans again, batting John's hand away.

“I'll make it worth your while.” John whispers in Sherlock's ear, his hand running further down to the younger teen's cock.

Sherlock's eyes snap open and he rolls over, falling straight out of bed and narrowly missing smashing his head on the bedside table.

“Sherl, you alright?” John asks softly, looking over the edge of the bed.

“Mm, fine.” Sherlock mumbles distractedly, before tugging the blanket off the bed and covering himself with it.

“Baby, don't you remember last night? I thought I'd be the one with the hazy memory due to alcohol but you, you were barely even tipsy.”

“I … I thought that … I dreamt _that_.” Sherlock whispers sheepishly, looking down at the floor.

“Oh. So you … _don't_ want to do anything then. Ya know, like take _this_ further? Which is fine, we can … just forget about, whatever this was. I'm okay with that.” John whispers awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What? No! No, no. I _want_ this. It was just a shock, that's all. I didn't think you'd _feel_ that way about … _me_. We've been friends for a long time and even though I knew you were bisexual, I just didn't _imagine_ that you could love me.”

“Sherl, I've always loved you. You're my best mate and, sure, I thought that if you ever needed advice on dating or you had a crush on someone then I'd be there for you. If you'd have told me that it was _me_ you had a crush on then I'd have … _considered_ the pros and cons of a relationship with you.” John smiles softly, leaning over and touching Sherlock's face.

“Now it sounds like _you_ don't want this.” Sherlock replies, sounding almost defeated.

“Of course I want this.” John says softly, crawling off the bed and sitting next to Sherlock. “But with every relationship there are pros and cons. You just have to hope there are more good things than bad. And with you, there are. You already know my habits, my daft little quirks, what annoys me and what makes me happy. You know all of it, Sherl. That's why I've been wanting to ask you out for a while but knowing, _until now_ , that you couldn't give me what I wanted.”

“I can't promise you a perfect relationship, John. But I will try my best to be a good boyfriend.” Sherlock replies softly, trying not to let his eyes wander down John's naked body but failing dramatically.

John smiles and picks up one of Sherlock's hands, bringing it towards chest and holding it there.

Sherlock just stares at his pale fingers splayed across John's slightly darker tanned chest, moving his fingers experimentally.

“Come on.” John says gently, pulling himself onto the bed and tugging Sherlock with him.

The older teen lies down and gently pulls Sherlock down with him, giving him a soft smile.

“Sher, you can … um, _touch_ , ya know.” John adds, chewing his bottom lip.

“Oh, okay.” Sherlock smiles awkwardly, eyes roaming over John's body before meeting his eyes.

The younger teen rests his hand on John's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. He runs a finger down his breast bone, stopping at John's belly-button before looking back at John for permission. John nods and smiles softly, folding his arms behind his head as Sherlock's finger goes further down, running a delicate line down the older teen's cock; causing him to moan loudly and buck his hips slightly.

Sherlock smiles widely and runs his finger back up John's cock; earning another moan from him.

“There are … _other_ parts of my anatomy too, Sherl. But … obviously you're enjoying my cock _very_ greatly.” John moans softly, chewing his lip again.

“I think you would object to me exploring _other_ parts of your anatomy this early in the relationship.” Sherlock replies with a smile that John can only be described as _too_ sexy for a boy of no experience in sexual encounters.

John moans again, closing his eyes to stop himself from physically holding his best friend down and having his wicked way with him.

“What are you thinking about, John?” Sherlock whispers in his best friend's ear; low and seductive.

“You don't … wanna know.” John stutters, trying to breathe as Sherlock continues to run a delicate finger up and down his cock.

“Oh I think I _already_ know. You want to pin me to this bed and _fuck me_ until I'm begging you to stop, don't you?” Sherlock continues to whisper, his voice low and husky.

“What sort of friend … would I be … if I did that?” John asks breathlessly, taking a deep breath in before letting it out slowly.

“Well, you _are_ my _boyfriend_.” Sherlock smirks, kissing John's neck.

“Sher, as much as I'd _love_ to … we should take this slow.” John replies, finally looking his boyfriend in the eyes and stroking his cheek.

“I want to experience it all, John. And I want it to be with you.” Sherlock says desperately, looking at John with pleading eyes.

“And we will, baby. Just give us some time to adjust, okay?”

“But what if you change your mind?”

“Why would I change my mind? I _want_ to do all those things with you too. But I don't want you feeling like some sort of _release_ for me. I want it to be special, because _you're_ special, Sher.” John smiles softly, sitting up to kiss his boyfriend.

“We're best friends, John. It _will_ be special anyway.” Sherlock tries to reason, gripping his boyfriend's arms tightly.

“Let's work up to that, baby? First, let's try this.” John smiles mischievously, rolling Sherlock over and sliding down his body.

“John, what are you … _Oh, God_.” Sherlock squeaks as John's mouth engulfs his erection fully.

John grins and continues to lazily lick his boyfriend's cock, slowly and teasingly. Sherlock moans loudly, his body lifting off the bed and driving his cock deeper into John's mouth.

John finally gives in and starts to suck his boyfriend off with slow, long strokes, making sure to lick the underside. Sherlock's hands bury themselves in his boyfriend's hair, gripping tightly as he thrusts into his mouth.

“Oh, Jawn. You're _amazing_. Uh, more, _please_.” Sherlock moans softly, voice low and husky again.

John looks up at Sherlock through his eyelashes and smiles again, speeding up as he digs his nails into his boyfriend's hips; knowing that there'll be bruises on his beautiful pale body in a few days.

Sherlock bites his lip and continues to thrust slowly into John's mouth, until John speeds up in his assault and Sherlock can no longer hold back anymore; driving his cock into his boyfriend's mouth hard and fast.

The younger teen's eyes scrunch up as he feels the impending orgasm and he tries to pull John off so that he can let go but John just drops his head harder and suddenly Sherlock is seeing stars; his grip on his boyfriend's hair loosening as his eyes flutter shut.

John crawls back up Sherlock's body, brushing back the curls that are starting to stick to his boyfriend's forehead, “Let's go get a shower, baby.” He whispers softly, kissing Sherlock's cheek.

“Urg, too tired.” Sherlock mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Come on. Your hair will be a nightmare to brush if we don't wash it soon.” John smiles, climbing over his boyfriend and pulling him up off the bed.

Sherlock stumbles as John pulls him up, his limbs still heavy and numb. John guides Sherlock into the shower, leaning him against the wall as he grabs shampoo/conditioner and soap to clean up his boyfriend with.

John turns the shower on, pulling Sherlock under it so the water soaks them both, the younger teen follows a drop of water running down John's body and dropping off his hip to join the puddle on the floor. The older teen grabs the shampoo and squeezes a generous amount into his hand before reaching up and rubbing Sherlock curls to wash out the gel and hairspray.

Sherlock moans a little as John massages his hair gently in soothing circles. He'd always imagined this; seeing John naked and dripping with water. He moans again at the mental image and has to rest his hands on the shower wall.

“You alright there, Sher? Don't tell me I'm stood here washing your hair and your having dirty fantasies about me.” John grins, moving into his boyfriend's body and running his hands down his chest.

“Apologies, John.” Sherlock sighs, his eyes snapping open to look at his boyfriend.

“Don't apologise. This is good. Everyone _longs_ to know that they arouse their partner. It's a natural thing, baby. And I _like_ it.” John's grin grows bigger and he kisses Sherlock soft and slow, rubbing the excess shampoo into his skin.

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock smiles softly, resting his forehead against John's.

“What for?”

“For coming over to talk to me when we were little. For always accepting me … For not taking advantage of me earlier.”

“Never.” John whispers softly, his promise to wait until Sherlock is truly ready.

x..x

“This is nice. I could get used to this.” John sighs happily, once they're both back curled up in bed together.

“Me too.” Sherlock replies softly, kissing John's forehead. “This is all I ever could have asked for, falling for my best friend.”

John smiles and hugs Sherlock a little tighter, “Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

John sighs softly and allows sleep to take over him once more, and if Sherlock invades his dreams then that wouldn't be so bad.


	3. My First Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and John have a heart to heart about their boyfriends and their future.  
> Meanwhile, Sherlock is causing trouble with staff and students with his experiments  
> And John asks Sherlock about their future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait with this one guys. I've been a bit busy. But here it is now. I thought I'd be a little sappy because why the hell not xxxxx

**Three Months Later**

Greg grins as John walks into the café looking a little mussed and ruffled; no doubt thanks to Sherlock's new found libido. He was definitely going to give the younger lad stick for not properly checking himself over this morning. And of course, he'd take credit for him and Sherlock finally getting it on, he did instigate their first kiss after all.

“So, how are you and Sherlock doing?” Greg asks with a smirk as John sits down at the table.

“We're doing great, yeah, mate. What about you and Mycroft?” John smirks back, sipping his tea gratefully.

“Wha- me and Mycroft aren't together.” Greg splutters, blushing a lovely shade of pink.

“Yeah right, Greg. So what are you then? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Romeo and Juliet?”

“That's not funny, ya bastard.” Greg replies, fighting the urge to grin. “And if we're anything, we're _not_ fucking Romeo and Juliet. Star crossed bloody lovers who topped themselves at the end, yeah, right. We're just Greg and Mycroft. No labels.”

“Ooohh I see. Mycroft's got you on a chain with a big yard, has he?” John grins, nudging his friend.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“In other words, he wants you in his bed but let's you out for a run once in a while.”

“Shut it.” Greg snaps, before breaking into a smile. “What about you and Sherlock anyway? I've never heard him say _you're_ boyfriends.”

“Yeah, well. He's not much for labels either.”

There's a pause as both men process this, of course their other halves have unofficially dubbed them as boyfriends but officially, well ...

“Oh God, we're dating emotionally stunted men. If we were women, our mates would be telling us to pack up and go. And we'd be meeting up to have a good cry about it.” Greg sighs, picking up his coffee.

“Yeah, but we know them better.” John replies, giving a wistful sort of smile.

“Amen to that, mate.”

John and Greg laugh heartily before falling into a comfortable silence.

“Besides, we're young, right. I mean, I'm seventeen and you're eighteen. Who knows where we'll be in ten years time.” John adds, summoning the waitress to get a muffin.

“Well, we know were _you_ would have been, still chasing that piece of skirt around.” Greg grins, nudging his friend.

The waitress returns with the muffin and smiles sweetly at John, taking his money and heading back to the counter.

“Are you referring to my boyfriend, _Gregory_?” John asks with a smirk, mimicking Mycroft's use of Greg's full name.

“Yes, I am. And be careful, the last boy to say my name like that I threatened to fuck him across a table.” Greg smirks back, a mock serious tone in his voice.

An old woman across from them throws the teens a glare and huffs, making it known that apparently that kind of talk isn't welcome in a café at 11am.

“Oh God, you're vile, Greg. I mean _honestly_ , saying that in a well-to-do place like this at such an early hour.” John replies, raising his voice so the nosey old biddy can hear him before breaking into giggles.

“You're such a child, John. Bloody hell. Besides, what can I say, Mycroft is a real slut in the bedroom.” Greg grins, only trying to provoke the old lady further.

“I think we better leave before that old bird tries battering us with her handbag of hard candy.” John laughs, grabbing his muffin and standing up from the table.

“So what about yours then?” Greg asks instead, smiling at the old woman before leaving.

“We haven't done it yet. We're taking it slow because Sherlock's never done it before.”

“He hasn't? Shit, he told Mycroft he'd shagged that little prick Victor.” Greg chuckles, nudging John in the arm.

“Victor? Victor's straight, Matt asked Victor for a shag last year and nearly got a broken nose for it. He's with Molly, dickhead.” John laughs, shaking his head at his friend.

They walk in silence for while, passing by the different shops on the way back to Greg and Mycroft's university, both teens thinking about their boyfriends and where they'll be in a few years.

“Do you think we'll still be with them in ten years?” Greg asks, looking dead ahead.

“I dunno, maybe. I mean, everyone goes through boyfriends and girlfriends throughout their life. What's the point in thinking that far ahead? Shit, I'm seventeen and don't even know if I'm set on going to uni yet, never mind thinking about what I'll be doing in ten years.”

“You should think about it, though, university, I mean. It's the best time, isn't it? Do everything while you're still young because when you get older it will be a whole lot messier.” Greg replies, stopping at the halls of the university to spark up a cigarette.

“Yeah, I suppose you're right. And besides, I've always wanted to be a doctor. I always thought it was something I was good at, taking care of people.”

“Exactly, I mean take me, for instance, I've always wanted to be a copper and yet, you know I have a bit of a record. Now, if I'd have used my brain, I'd have thought more before I did some of that shit.”

“Yeah, but half your record convictions will be spent by the time you train to become a cop. And besides, if Mycroft really is going into the government, I'm sure he'd make that record disappear.” John smiles, leaning against the wall and taking the cigarette from Greg.

“Oi, ya cheeky shit.” Greg scolds, knocking John off balance.

“Oh, piss off, _mum_. I did weed at the last party I was at. Tobacco ain't exactly high on the illegal drugs list.” John replies mockingly, kicking Greg in the shin.

“See if I was a copper right now, I'd be patting you down for drugs.”

“You wish, _babe_.” John smirks, creating an innuendo from his friend's words.

“ _You_ wish, more like, sweet-cheeks. Mikey says I have the body of a God and I'm the best shag he's ever had.” Greg grins back, nudging his friend again.

“Oh, for the love of God. Gregory, please behave.”

Greg and John simultaneously turn at the sound of Mycroft's voice, John giggling away to himself at the slight blush on the older teen's cheeks.

“Ah, baby, we were just talking about you. All good things, obviously.” Greg purrs, practically sauntering over to his boyfriend.

“Yes, I heard. Now, if you're quite done discussing our sexual positions to John, I think Sherlock would like to have his boyfriend back.”

John splutters on the smoke in his lungs and blushes bright red, coughing out a “Oh God.” before waving his two friends goodbye and heading back to college.

“That was just mean and you know it.” Greg chuckles, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend.

“Then you shouldn't be discussing me with friends, _Gregory_.” Mycroft replies, letting a smile cross his lips.

Greg bites his lip and grabs Mycroft's hand, pulling him towards his dorm-room so he can make his boyfriend pay for that obscene use of his name.

x..x

John just gets into his college building as one of the female tutors screams and runs out of the science lab that Sherlock was occupying before John went to lunch.

“What is it this time, Kate?” John asks as the tutor storms over to him.

“John Watson. Your boyfriend is a twisted boy and I insist you do something about it.” Kate seethes, storming past the teen.

John chuckles to himself as he makes his way towards the science lab, ready to drag Sherlock out in order to preserve his and  _everyone's_ sanity.

John stops just at the door and admires his boyfriend hard at work; who's clearly already forgotten about Kate.

“You look fucking gorgeous when you're so into your work.” John comments, seeing his boyfriend practically poured over an experiment involving; what he hopes, are _not_ human eyes.

Sherlock looks up at John, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he puts the equipment down and walks over to his boyfriend.

“How was lunch?” Sherlock asks, getting into John's space and resting his hands on the other teens hips.

“I'm surprised you noticed.” John chuckles, leaning up and kissing Sherlock.

“Oh, I didn't. Kate told me that it was lunch time before she saw my experiment and started screaming.” Sherlock grins, a shimmer of glee in his eyes.

“Yes, but really, Sherlock. Eyes? In a science class room so close to the canteen?”

“None of the other students said anything about the experiment.”

“Meaning, other students _complained_ about the experiment and you chose to ignore them.” John corrects, smirking at his boyfriend.

“Precisely.” Sherlock grins wickedly.

“God, you're mad. Come on, take a seat and eat your muffin.”

“You bought me a muffin?”

“A double chocolate with chocolate pieces muffin? Yes.” John smiles, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him towards an experiment-free desk.

Sherlock does as he's told and obediently follows John to a table, sitting down and waiting for his lunch.

“Now, if you behave and clean up the eyes, I might even just feed it to you. In our room. With a lot less clothing on.” The teen whispers, straddling Sherlock's legs and leaning in to nibble his neck.

“Give me … five minutes.” Sherlock gasps, gripping John's hips hard.

“Good boy.” John smiles, kissing Sherlock's neck and getting up off his lap.

Sherlock starts to breath properly again, gingerly standing up and willing his brain and feet to work together.

John just sits on the desk and grins, watching his boyfriend's mental struggle and wondering what else he can convince him to do.

x..x

Sherlock practically slams John against their dorm-room door as they enter and kisses him passionately, digging his nails into his boyfriend's hips.

“Slow down, baby. You haven't eaten all day. I don't want to passing out on me.” John breathes, trying not to moan as Sherlock nibbles his neck.

“Don't care. Busy.” Sherlock mumbles into John's neck, moving to leave a love bite on the older teen's collarbone.

“Yeah, but I do. So take it easy.” John chuckles, pushing Sherlock away slightly.

“ _John_. I don't care about eating right now. I can manage without food for a while.”

“Ah I don't think so. Sit down and I'll feed you your muffin, then _maybe_ we can think about _other_ things.”

Sherlock gives an exasperated sigh, stepping away from John and flopping down onto his bed.

John smiles softly and grabs the muffin, breaking a piece off and holding it to his boyfriend's lips. Sherlock takes it between his lips and uses his tongue to slip the piece of muffin and John's finger into his mouth.

John moans and bites his lip, still surprised at Sherlock's new found confidence in his sexuality and how he teases the older teen with it.

Sherlock just smirks in response, hooking his finger into his boyfriend's belt hoop and pulling him forward for a kiss.

“You're so beautiful, Sherlock.” John whispers into his boyfriend's lips, cupping his face in his hands.

Sherlock smiles shyly at his boyfriend, gently pulling him down onto the bed and climbing on top of him to kiss him softly.

John rests his hands on his boyfriend's slim hips and kisses him back, tangling their legs together. He pulls away slightly and looks up at Sherlock.

“Where do you think we'll be in ten years?” He asks curiously, stroking back some of Sherlock's curls.

“Living together in a flat in London, of course. I'll be doing my consulting work, which you will help me do and then you'll still be complaining about all the experiments I do.” Sherlock says matter-of-factly.

“You've really thought about this, haven't you?” John chuckles.

“Of course I have. Isn't that what couples do when they're in love?” Sherlock asks cautiously, confusion furrowing his brow.

“Yeah, love, they do. Is that how you feel?”

“Of course it is.” Sherlock replies, snuggling down and resting his head on John's chest.

John kisses Sherlock's curls and runs his hand up his boyfriend's back, settling it into Sherlock's hair.

“I'm in love with you too, Sherlock. I think I always have been.” John sighs softly, nuzzling Sherlock's hair and breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

“Obviously.” Sherlock replies and John can hear the smug smirk he's sporting.

“Idiot.”

John laughs and when Sherlock joins in, the two giggle until they're both breathless.

 


	4. My First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nearing the end of Sherlock and John's second year of college and the boys have been together for seven months now. Unfortunately, it's also six days until John goes off to start his army training and Sherlock doesn't take it well.   
> But what better time than now to give his boyfriend something before he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I first just apologise for my absence, real life tends to get in the way AND I have a new job - yay. On the up side only two chapters left after this guys (I'm adding a final one given where this is heading) and I've already started the next chapter after this :) xxxx

John wakes up to a pleasant surprise as he opens his eyes and sees Sherlock doing something very unexpected; sucking John's cock.

Unfortunately, John is only half awake and trying to get his bearings so his brain is not fully aware enough to enjoy the experience.

Almost as though he realises this, Sherlock pulls off to give his boyfriend a few minutes to wake up.

“Hey, you.” John smiles sleepily, eyes half-closed and a yawn approaching.

“Morning.” Sherlock smirks, crawling up John's body to kiss him softly.

“That's some wake up method you have there.” John grins, running his fingers through his boyfriend's messy curls.

“I thought you might like it.” Sherlock grins back, running his fingers down John's chest and to his cock.

“Next time, make sure I'm awake enough to enjoy it.” John chuckles, kissing Sherlock again.

“Awake now?” Sherlock asks with a sly smile.

“How could I not be, what with a sexy angel sucking my cock.”

“I love it when you talk like that.” Sherlock purrs, sliding back down his boyfriend's body and getting back to what he started.

Sherlock sucks his boyfriend off with slow, long strokes, making sure to lick the underside while John moans low in his throat.

“Someone was taking notes ... when I gave him a blow job, wasn't he?” John moans, recognising his own technique.

Sherlock hums before gently scraping his teeth over the sensitive head and the moan John makes has probably woken up their classmates in the other rooms but neither teen cares right now.

“God, Sher. You been getting … lessons on how to do this? Or are you just a  _ natural _ ?” John asks, his voice hitching to a moan as Sherlock swirls his tongue just the right way.

John doesn't receive a response and he gets an overwhelming feeling that Sherlock has zoned him out so he can focus solely on giving him pleasure.

Minutes later and John is coming with tears in his eyes, so privileged that he has this beautiful and amazing boy in his life.

Sherlock crawls back up John's body as the older teen shuts his eyes and turns his head away, determined not to embarrass Sherlock.

“John? What's wrong?” Sherlock asks in a concerned tone.

“I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Sher.”

“John?” Sherlock asks carefully.

“I just … I was talking but you weren't listening. Well, you were  _ focusing _ .” John replies, wiping his eyes and smiling in embarrassment.

“Of course I was focusing. I wanted it to be good for you.”

“I know you did, baby. And it was, it was perfect. You're so good to me, Sher.”

Sherlock leans in and kisses John in response, purring low in his throat.

“God, you'll be the death of me one day, love.” John sighs happily, kissing Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock smiles back and then slowly crawls out of bed, stretching his long limbs while John watches his boyfriend's movements with a lazy smile.

“So what classes do you have today?” John asks, taking Sherlock's lead and climbing out of bed.

“Art, Psycology and Maths.” Sherlock replies, pulling on a shirt and looking around for his jeans.

“Ah, well my dinner's at twelve. What about yours?” John asks, grabbing a t-shirt and some jeans from his wardrobe.

“Twelve thirty. Meet you back here?”

“Sounds good. Well, I best head out, love. I start class in five.” John smiles, kissing Sherlock softly.

“I shall see you at half twelve then.” Sherlock smiles back, grabbing his bag before looking for his shoes.

“You shall.” John grins, grabbing his own bag and taking one last look at Sherlock before leaving their room.

 

**Two Days Later**

“You're doing what?” Sherlock yells, slamming his bag down on the table.

“Sherlock, we're in the library, keep it down.” John whispers calmly, closing his text book.

“Calm down?! You just told me you're going into the army and you're telling me to calm down?!”

In all fairness, John did receive the letter two weeks ago but with all the course work he's had, he sort of forgot about it. And now, he's just told Sherlock he's leaving in  _ six _ days so he  _ can _ understand his boyfriend's anger.

“Right, if you're going to scream about it, we're going back to our room. No arguments.” John replies, grabbing his text book and bag.

“Fine!” Sherlock yells in reply, storming out of the library ahead of John.

They walk back to their room in silence, Sherlock stamping and fuming all the way while John just walks slowly behind him, determined not to let the whole of college see their little  _ domestic _ .

As Sherlock gets back to their dorm, he slams the door in John's face and the older teen sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Guess, I should have expected that.” John sighs, opening the door and watching his boyfriend curl up onto their bed.

John closes the door softly, drops his bag on the floor and carefully makes his way over to Sherlock.

“Sher, talk to me, please.”

“What's the point, you're leaving me. We might as well end this now.”

“What? I don't want to end this. I love you, Sherlock. I was always planning on going in the army but that doesn't mean I want to break up with you.”

“So you expect me to wait around for you then?” Sherlock asks, looking over his shoulder at John.

“Well … not if you don't want to. If  _ you _ want to end this then I guess ...” John sighs, leaning against the bedside table.

“That's just it, I don't. I would wait around for you. I'd wait until you came back on holidays and I'd wait until you came back for good. But would you still want me then?” Sherlock asks, sitting up with his back to John.

“Of course I would, love. Distance doesn't mean I'd want you any less.” John replies surely, reaching out to touch Sherlock's curls.

“But you still want to go.”

“This is just something I have to do, Sherl. It's nothing to do with our relationship or whether I want you or not. Or just have to do this. But I'll send you emails every day. I'm not going to forget about you, baby. Never in a million years.”

“And what do I do if you  _ don't  _ come back, if you  _ can't _ come back?” Sherlock whispers, looking back at John.

“I don't know, baby, I really don't. I guess I'll just have to make sure I stay alive … for you.”

“There's still things we haven't done. Things that you said we'd experience together.”

“We still have time. You can do a lot in six days.” John smirks suggestively, sliding onto the bed to sit behind his boyfriend.

Sherlock smiles softly as John wraps his arms around him and leans in to kiss his neck.

“Can we do it now? I know you don't want to rush this but … can we?”

“Are you ready to? Because if you're not, we can still wait, I'll be on leave after a few months.”

“Can we? Please.”

“If that's what you want, baby.”

“I do.”

John smiles and goes back to kissing Sherlock's neck, nibbling slightly as he pulls Sherlock tighter.

“ _ John.  _ Hurry _ ,  _ please.”

“Patience, love.” John whispers, stroking Sherlock's chest. “Let's take this slow, shall we? Enjoy our time together while we can.”

Sherlock nods in agreement, a lump forming in his throat at all the possible ways John could be killed.

“Stop it. I can practically  _ see  _ what's going on in your head right now. I won't get killed, I promise.”

“Okay.”

John continues to kiss and nibble at Sherlock's neck as he slowly runs his hands up his boyfriend's chest and begins to undo his buttons slowly.

He slides it from his shoulders and pulls away to drop the shirt onto the floor, Sherlock already starting on the buttons of his jeans and sitting up to pull them off.

John slides off the bed as the pair get undressed slowly and in silence, both more than a little nervous about their first time together.

John slowly climbs back onto the bed and gently pushes Sherlock down, settling himself between his boyfriend's long legs and kissing him slowly.

“ _ John _ .  Promise me you won't die. ” Sherlock whispers, looking up into John's eyes.

“I promise.” John whispers back, resting his hand on Sherlock's cheek. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

“I'll have to stretch you out first, so you'll have to be patient, okay.” John says gently, reaching over to grab some lube from their bedside table.

“Okay.” Sherlock replies, opening his legs a little wider.

“Just try and relax, it's better that way.”

Sherlock nods in reply, focusing on relaxing for John.

John pours the lube onto his fingers and presses them inside Sherlock.

The younger teen hisses in pain at first but tries to breathe through it, focusing on the sensation.

“Keep going. I want this.” Sherlock says softly, reaching down to run his fingers through John's hair.

“I know you do.” John replies, smiling up at Sherlock. “Talk to me, tell me how it feels.”

“It's good, it's …  _ oh _ . Do that again, John.”

John smiles and moves his fingers slightly, touching the little bundle of nerves again.

Sherlock makes a noise in his throat and John grins in satisfaction. Sherlock lets out another noise that sounds very much like a purr and it makes John shiver down to his core. .

“You're ready, baby.” John whispers, leaning down to kiss Sherlock's hip..

“Good.” Sherlock sighs happily, waiting for John to continue..

John lubes himself up quickly and slowly lines himself up to  Sherlock's entrance and pushing in slightly.

“There's gonna be a little pain but it'll subside, okay.”

Sherlock flinches slightly but doesn't push John away, he just breathes deeply and waits for the pain to give way to pleasure.

John gets himself fully seated and stops for a moment, allowing Sherlock to adjust to the feeling.

“Carry on, John. Please. I'm okay.” Sherlock sighs, reaching up to stroke John's cheek.

John kisses Sherlock's hand and moans softly, moving in and out slowly.

“Lift your legs up a bit, it will feel better.” John says, gently guiding Sherlock's legs up into a bending position.

Sherlock moans loudly at the new feeling and the vibrations send a shock wave into John.

John pulls out and pushes back in slowly, kissing his boyfriend's knee.

Sherlock moans softly at the intimacy and rests his hand on top of John's, linking their fingers.

“More.” Sherlock moans, his head falling back and created a halo of curls on his pillow.

John moans in response and pulls out, slamming back into Sherlock before leaning in and kissing the younger teen slowly.

Sherlock brings his free hand up and cups John's neck, kissing him with more force.

John grips Sherlock's hand and moves slightly faster, pouring everything in his heart out to his fallen angel.

“You always be my fallen angel, Sher.” John breathes into Sherlock's lips, causing the younger teen to chuckle softly.

“And you'll always be my rock star.”

John grins at the image from the party they went to that night, the one of their first kiss.

“Now, be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it.” The younger teen smirks, his fingers tangle in John's hair.

“I love it when you talk dirty.” John grins, pulling out and shoving back in before Sherlock can think of a witty remark.

“Now we're getting somewhere.” Sherlock moans with a slight hint of a giggle.

“Cheeky shit.” John replies without heat, kissing Sherlock's collarbone.

“I don't think I can … hold on … _John._ ” Sherlock gasps, his grip in John's hair getting a little painful for the older teen.

“It's okay, baby.” John reassures him, kissing his neck.

“Say it, John. Please. Before I ...” Sherlock begs, struggling to hold back.

John leans in to whisper in his boyfriend's ear, “I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

John manages one last thrust before Sherlock screams his name and comes all over John's chest.

Sherlock clenches around John and the older teen sees stars, gasping Sherlock's name as he comes.

“Shit, does it always feel that good?” Sherlock asks in wonder as his body twitches from over-sensitivity.

“If it's with the right person, yeah.” John breathes, laughing softly at the fact that he's just had amazing sex with his best friend.

“Why are you laughing?” Sherlock asks in an annoyed tone, folding his arms across his chest.

“Because that was … unbelievable. And fantastic. And you've always been the best decision I ever made.” John smiles, pulling out slowly and curling up next to his boyfriend.

“Really? That's not what people usually say.”

“What do people usually say?”

“Piss off.”

 

John looks back up at Sherlock and they both start giggling like children.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to apologise in advance for the next chapter and say, I turned into Moffat and Gatiss' evil little love child with the next one.
> 
> But please don't hate me xxxx


	5. My First Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has been in the army for six years and the relationship between him and John is going strong,  
> Even despite the long-distance of it.  
> But after John goes missing in action,  
> Sherlock does the only thing he knows how to; self-destruct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me, I just felt I had to write this as everyone has their first heartbreak xxx

**Six Years Later**

One day, the emails stop coming and at first Sherlock thinks that it's just because John can't answer them yet. John successfully completed his army training and is now a fully qualified medic, which of course made Sherlock immensely proud.

But of course, now there's a war on and Sherlock has to admit he's more than a bit terrified. Obviously, he knew this was likely to happen, what with all the news reports and he knew John would have to go out into the field one day but after three days of no replies, Sherlock thinks the worst.

His worst fears come true when Mycroft, now an official government official, brings him the file. Which of course, Sherlock isn't supposed to see but in Mycroft's rare act of kindness, he breaks every rule he can, just so his little brother is the first to know.

“What does it mean 'missing in action', Mycroft? How can he be missing?” Sherlock asks desperately, re-reading the file in the hopes it will say something different.

“His troop was captured and they have been missing since. Six men missing and four dead, it's a bloody cock-up.” Mycroft growls, revealing his true feelings for once.

“I don't care about the others, I _care_ about John. Where is he?”

“For the love of God, Sherlock. He's _missing_. We don't know where he is. We're trying to locate them but we've had no luck as of yet.”

“You mean the British Government can't find six British soldiers?! Then what bloody good are you?!” Sherlock yells, throwing the folder at Mycroft.

“What's going on, dear?” Mrs Hudson, Sherlock's land lady asks carefully, having heard the yelling.

“Not now, Mrs Hudson!” Mycroft shouts, roughly picking the folder up from the floor at his feet.

“Don't talk to my land lady like that!” Sherlock shouts back, glaring at his brother.

“Yes, thank you, dear.” Mrs Hudson replies softly.

“But in fact, Mrs Hudson, this really isn't a good time so please _do_ leave.” Sherlock replies, waving a hand to his land lady.

“I'm sure they'll find him, dear. We're not the type to leave our boys behind, are we, Mr Holmes?”

“That's confidential information, Mrs Hudson.” Mycroft snaps, glaring at the land lady.

“Well, if it's so confidential, you shouldn't have brought it here then.” Mrs Hudson replies, turning around and leaving.

A small smile unconsciously forms on Sherlock's lips before it vanishes with the remembrance of what's happened.

“We are trying to find him, Sherlock. And Mrs Hudson is right, we don't leave our own behind.” Mycroft says calmly, his anger now hidden away under his mask of professionalism.

“Our own? They're just pawns to you. Pawns to fight in a war that isn't of our concern.” Sherlock sneers, turning to look out of the window.

“I've broken every law I am meant to uphold bringing you this information, Sherlock. I could be tried with treason.”

“Yes, well, don't let the door hit you on the way out. Off you go.”

Mycroft sighs and decides it's probably best to leave his little brother alone for now.

Sherlock hears the front door close and collapses to the floor; tears burning his eyes as he drops his head into his lap and, for the first time in years, actually cries.

x..x

Three more days it takes before Sherlock self-destructs and Detective Inspector Lestrade has to try and find the broken hearted kid he's come to love as his own. And after two months, Sherlock falls off the grid completely, leaving Greg and Mycroft to search for the younger man.

 _“Do you have a location on him yet, Gregory?”_ Mycroft asks over the phone.

“Not yet, love. But I won't give up, you know that.” Greg replies, walking out of the third drug den that evening.

He signals to Sally Donovan to send the rest of his force in to make arrests and climbs back into his car.

 _“We must find him, Gregory.”_ Mycroft says desperately down the phone.

“I know, love. I am trying to. I've got to go. I'll ring you when I've checked the next one.” Greg sighs, rubbing a hand through his silver hair.

Premature greyness in his early thirties and he's pretty sure between the Holmes boys and John Watson, they're the route of it all.

 _“Yes, of course, my dear. Apologies, I just worry about him … constantly.”_ Mycroft sighs back and Greg can tell he probably looks more ruffled than is strictly professional.

“I know that too, baby.” Greg replies softly, letting his old pet name slip through for the first time in years. “And I will find him. Even if it takes me all night. I'll get our boy back safe.”

_“I have every faith in you, my love. I always have.”_

The softness in Mycroft's tone makes Greg smile warmly and he starts up the engine of the car.

“I'll see you soon, love.”

_“Yes, you will, Gregory. And no matter what happens, I'll be sure to have dinner on the table when you return.”_

“Now you're talking, baby.” Greg chuckles, “I love you.”

 _“I love you to, my dear.”_ Mycroft replies before hanging up the phone.

Greg pulls away from the kerb and continues his hunt for the younger Holmes. Finally, eight drug dens later with a lead telling him were the younger man might be and Greg pulls up to the kerb of the shadiest den he's seen so far.

x..x

“So, we gonna do this again, Sher?” The man asks, stretched out on the bed completely spent.

Davies, Sherlock thinks he's called, in all honesty he hasn't bothered to remember his first name, after all, he's just a warm body for Sherlock to abuse.

He's forty something, the oldest Sherlock has gone for so far but maybe that's because he has good heroin.

“No. And _don't_ call me that.” Sherlock growls, grabbing his clothes off the floor.

“But baby, it was good, right?” Davies asks, looking a little confused.

“I'm not your _baby_ , either! And I said, no! Can't a guy just get a quick fuck and be done with it?” Sherlock snaps, glaring at the man.

“Well, yeah, if we had _actually_  fucked, but we didn't. God, I wasted some good shit on you as well.” Davies sighs, sitting up in the dingy bed.

“I told you, I don't do that. And you weren't complaining when I was sucking your cock, were you, arsehole?”

“Such foul words out of such a pretty mouth.” Davies smiles, leaning in to touch Sherlock's face.

“Piss off. You got what you wanted, now go back to your little slut of a girlfriend and pretend you're not gay.” Sherlock snaps, pulling away from the man and getting dressed.

“Hey! Watch your mouth, kid. You ain't too big for a slap, you know.”

To prove his point, Davies grabs Sherlock's arm and yanks him back down onto the bed.

“Get off me, you prick. I told you, I'm leaving.”

“Not til I get what I want.” Davies growls dangerously and Sherlock realises he's made a very fatal error.

Suddenly the bedroom door explodes and there stands Greg Lestrade, a gun aimed at Davies' head.

“Let him go, mate. You really don't want a bullet in your head because of him.”

Davies turns to look at the DI and sniggers, “Who's this? Your dad? Got daddy issues do you, kid? That why you're shagging men twice your age?”

“I said, _let him go_.” Greg growls, completely ignoring the man's remark and focusing on how tight a hold Davies has on the younger man.

“Fine, whatever. Kid wouldn't even give it up anyway. Take the stupid prick, see if I care.” Davies laughs, letting go of Sherlock.

“Sherlock, go and get in the car.”

“Piss off, Lestrade. You can't tell me what to do.” Sherlock scoffs, grabbing his mobile and wallet from the table.

“I said, _get in the car_. Now!” Greg orders, leaving no room for argument.

Sherlock tries to hide a gulp and walks passed Greg to the entrance of the building.

“Arrest him. For drug possession with intent to sell.” Greg tells the assisting police officers he texted before he entered.

“Oh, there was no _intent_ to sell. We had a deal.” Davies grins, licking his lips.

“Get him to the station.” Greg orders, lowering his gun and turning to leave.

He walks back down the dark hallway, intent on having words with the younger Holmes and as he reaches the entrance, he grabs the younger man roughly, practically dragging him to the car.

“Get off me, Lestrade. You can't drag me around like this. I'm a grown man.”

“Then bloody well act like one. What would John say?” Greg replies, opening the car door for Sherlock.

Sherlock stops dead and looks at Greg in the eyes, “John's dead. It doesn't matter _what_ he'd say.”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Greg says slowly, making his point clear.

Sherlock growls in reply but climbs in the back of the car anyway.

“Where are we going? To my brother, I presume.”

“Of course we are. He's worried about you.” Greg sighs, trying to make his point clear.

“Not worried enough to find John though.”

Greg falls silent, he knows it's pointless to argue with Sherlock about this and he still has to address the issue of what Davies claimed.

They travel back to Mycroft's home in silence, the only sound being Sherlock's occasional muttering and grumbling about stupid brothers and how useless they are.

When they pull up into the driveway, Sherlock point blank refuses to get out of the car, instead decides to sulk until Greg has no choice but to drag him out and wrestle him into Mycroft's house.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?” Mycroft growls as soon as Sherlock slumps into a chair.

The younger Holmes ignores him in favour of bringing his knees up to his chest and staring into the fire, feeling as it warms him to his bones.

“Answer me, William!” Mycroft yells, roughly grabbing his younger brother by the chin and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“Mycroft! Don't hurt him! Granted, he deserves a good slap but have some self-control.” Greg orders, grabbing Mycroft's arm.

“I don't need to hurt him, Gregory. I already know what I need to.” Mycroft replies calmly, letting go of Sherlock. “Why must it always be drugs, dear brother? Can't you get yourself a _less_ destructive hobby?”

“Wait, you knew he'd do this? And what do you mean always? Mycroft, what haven't you told me?” Greg asks angrily, with a slight tone of betrayal in his voice.

“Shortly after John went into the army, I found Sherlock high in his room. It was weed at the time and I hoped that if he must do drugs to cope with his situation, then that's as bad as it would get. Until two years later when I found him unconscious with a needle in his arm. You were liaison for a case in Cardiff at the time so I felt no need to worry you.” Mycroft replies carefully, standing in front of the fire pace with his arms behind his back.

“So you kept it from me instead!” Greg yells, combing a hand through his hair.

“You had just been promoted, I didn't want to jeopardise that, Gregory.” Mycroft says softly, turning to look at his partner.

“So you just decided not to tell me then. Because what, it was _unimportant_?” Greg shouts angrily, not even trying to control his rising temper.

“Oh, please, if you two are going to have a _domestic_ , at least allow me to go to my room.” Sherlock drawls, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up, Sherlock!” Both men shout together, Greg still glaring angrily at his partner.

Sherlock for once decides to keep his mouth shut and go back to staring into the fire.

“In fact, Sherlock, _do_ leave us. Me and Gregory have some things to discuss.”

Sherlock stands and makes his way to the door, determined not to be dragged into the lovers quarrel.

“Oh, so now you want to talk, do you? What are you going to tell me next? That _this_ just isn't working out and you want us to go our separate ways?” Greg shouts back, his voice breaking at the end.

“Why the bloody hell would I want to do that? I'm in love with you, you stupid man!” Mycroft yells, shocking all three of them with his blatant honesty.

“Finally he says it as it is. About bloody time, dear brother.” Sherlock remarks in the silence left behind, walking out the room and up the stairs.

He rolls his eyes when he gets to the top of them, walking down the hall and into the bedroom he hasn't stepped foot in in over ten years.

“You're … _what_?” Greg asks, stunned.

“I thought it was blatantly obvious how I felt.” Mycroft replies, looking away.

“Not blatantly obvious to me, it wasn't.” Greg sighs, slumping down in the chair Sherlock vacated.

“Well it was to everyone else. Even John knew that. And that was over eight years ago when he realised it.” Mycroft remarks with disdain, wondering how long he's been wearing his heart on his sleeve when it comes to his partner.

“Eight years? You've never told me that's how you felt.” Greg replies sadly, staring into the fire.

“I told you, I thought it was obvious.”

“And _I_ told _you_ it wasn't obvious to me.”

Mycroft falls silent before whispering softly, “How did we get here, Gregory? We used to know each other so well. We used to be happy.”

Greg smiles sadly at his partner, so rare it is that he is prone to emotion and sentiment that Greg sometimes forgets how capable he is of such human things.

“We _are_ happy, aren't we?” Greg asks carefully, afraid of the answer.

“When we're not point scoring? Yes, we are, my dear.” Mycroft replies softly, toughing the photo frames on the mantle.

Greg stands and makes his way over to his partner, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

He looks back up and replies, “I know there are things you're never going to be able to tell me, matters of national security and everything. But things concerning your brother, that's different, Myc.”

“I know, Gregory. I truly only wanted you not to worry. And I had it in hand.” Mycroft replies, resting his hands on top of Greg's.

“Just tell me everything, from the beginning."


	6. My First Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years ago, John went missing in action  
> And Sherlock spent the following two years doing heroin, getting blind drunk and doing sexual favours for anyone and everyone.  
> What happens when John is finally found alive, after those two years, with a bullet in his shoulder?  
> And what will John say when he finds out what Sherlock's been doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, guys. And its a little angst but with a happy ending. Hope you all enjoy it.

**Two Years Later**

“For the love of God, Sherlock. When will this stop? Can you really survive _another_ two years going on like this?” Greg sighs, wondering if _he_ can survive another two years of Sherlock's destructive behaviour.

“Heartbreak is an awful motivator, Gregory. Remember that.” Mycroft replies carefully, the past two years clearly having had an effect on the older Holmes too.

“Piss off, Mycroft. I'm not _heartbroken_ . I got over John's _death_ two years ago.” Sherlock replies cruelly, but there's no mistaking the hitch in his voice at the word 'death'.

“I told you, he isn't _confirmed_ dead until we find a body, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighs, having had this argument one too many times.

“You aren't going to _find_ a body, Mycroft! Just confirm it already so we can put this to bed!” Sherlock yells, jumping up from his chair and swaying.

“I thought you had _gotten over it_ , dear brother.” Mycroft scoffs, watching his brother carefully.

He watches the fragile and abused form of his brother as he sways were he stands, his legs barely strong enough to support his weight, as depleting as it is. He's watched his brother since the day John was declared M.I.A and has seen his increasing decline and self destruction.

He's spent two years wishing he could fix the broken heart of his little brother and bring John back home. Little does Sherlock know but Mycroft has sent in practically every (un)known operative to find John and his troop; unofficially of course.

He's committed every act of treason from the very beginning, just to help his little brother, even the biggest crime of all; telling his partner _everything_.

Of course, he's upped Sherlock's and Greg's security clearances but who is going to listen to his junkie brother, and a mere Detective Inspector isn't exactly of the highest ranking.

But he'd commit many more acts of treason if it meant that his brother would just _stop this_. If he would just realise the damage he's doing and stop.

“Do you even realise everything your brother is doing, has done, for _you_ , Sherlock? He isn't just facing arrest here, Sherlock, he's facing probably death ...”

“Enough, Gregory! Remember, you're not supposed to know any of it.” Mycroft growls, silencing his partner.

“Has someone been threatening National Security, Mycroft? And committed _treason_ ? My, my, dear brother, you _are_ in love.”

“Shut up, Sherlock.”

“Please, _Greg_ , tell me more. Tell me _how_ my brother has been committing such _illegal_ crimes that could have him killed.” Sherlock replies with a sinister smile.

“You've become a real bastard, Sherlock Holmes. This is no laughing matter. He's only done all this so he can help you. And you dare stand there and make jokes about it! I should have given you a crack years ago!” Greg yells, raising his hand to Sherlock, hating how funny he thinks this all is.

Sherlock drops like a stone and cowers just as Mycroft yells, “Gregory!”

Immediately, Greg lowers his hand and realises his fatal mistake; he raised a hand to a man who's been to hell and back, probably had a hand and fist raised to him more times than he can count, and suddenly, Greg drops to his knees and pulls the frightened young man into his arms.

“I'm sorry, Sher. I really am. I'm so, so sorry.” Greg soothes softly, as Sherlock's broken sobs reverberate through his own chest.

Mycroft moves round from his desk, dropping solidly to his knees and taking both his partner and his little brother in his arms.

He looks down into his partner's face and sees his own tears reflected there, the lives of three men turned on their heads because of one man; John Hamish Watson. 

Suddenly, the door bursts open and there stands Anthea, looking every bit as worn and tired as the three men, gasping for air as her long hair fights to free itself from its hair tie.

“Sir. You need to see this.” She gasps, leaning on the door frame for support as she continues, “And bring Greg and Sherlock with you.”

Mycroft immediately jumps up, helping Greg and his little brother to their feet and not even bothering to straighten out his suit as he bolts through the door.

“What is it, Anthea?” Mycroft demands, catching up with his assistant as she stops by her desk.

“It's John Watson, Sir. He's alive.” She replies, pointing to her laptop.

Greg barely manages to catch Sherlock as he collapses; the shock of what her simple words mean to an already fragile heart.

x..x

As the door explodes, Doctor John Watson and his troop jump in fear, those kinds of explosions never mean anything good is about to happen.

But when a strangely familiar accent; British, more specifically London of origin, calls his name, John isn't sure whether to be relieved or to worry for his sanity.

“Watson. Doctor John Watson, yes?” The voice asks him, pulling him carefully to his feet.

“Y .. Yes. Doctor Watson. I'm … I'm Doctor Watson.” John replies nervously, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Thank Christ. We've been looking for you bloody everywhere, man.” The voice laughs in relief, shouting orders to his squad to get the others out too.

“Sorry. Who are you?” John asks worriedly, as he's walked out of the bunker and into the glaring Afghan sun. 

“Mr Holmes sent us. Unofficially of course, so try to keep that bit to yourself, alright.” The man replies, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Holmes? You mean, Mycroft? Mycroft sent you?” John asks in disbelief, holding a hand up to shield his eyes.

“Yep, that's the one. We're Black Ops. Special Forces.” The operative replies, herding John and the others into a chopper.

“Wait, Black Ops? Don't you only rescue people of importance?” John asks warily, having to shout over the sound of the propellers.

“Well, to be fair, we don't _technically_ exist. We're like ghosts. And yeah we do. Obviously Mr Holmes thought you were important enough to commit numerous acts of treason to rescue.” The operative replies wryly with a smile.

“What? Seriously? But Mycroft could face a death sentence for treason.” John breathes, immensely worried for his friend.

“Yeah, but you're important to him. Or more specifically to his _brother_.”

“Sherlock. God, how has he been coping all this time?” John asks to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.” John replies, forcing a smile.

“Well, try and get some rest. It's a long journey. That goes for the rest of you too.” The operative replies, nodding to the rest of John's troop. “And we'll need that shoulder checked out too.”

“Believe it or not, they gave me some supplies to fix it up myself. Apparently they needed me alive for something.” John replies with a humourless laugh.

He checks his wounded shoulder and sees that it's healed quite well considering, even though there's an ugly scar left behind.

But John still wonders why they would shoot him, torture him and _then_ tend to his wound, it's still a bloody mystery but obviously he _was_ more useful alive than dead.

x..x 

“What do you mean 'alive'? Are you sure, Anthea?” Mycroft asks desperately, fearing for his brother's already fragile state.

“Yes, Sir. Look.”

Mycroft steps around his assistant and reads the email from the account that only he and Anthea have access to.

It's simple and straight to the point, well, simple enough with Mycroft's specialist coding.

_Mockingbird secured._

_En route to Wren._

“Wait, what does that mean?” Greg asks, reading the email over Mycroft's shoulder.

“I'll explain later, Gregory. Right now though, we should make our way to our home. It's been a long enough wait for my little brother.” Mycroft replies with determination, “Thank you, Anthea, my dear.”

“All in a day's work, Sir.” Anthea sighs tiredly, swaying where she stands.

“And now you must go home. Get some rest and take the next three days off.”

“But, Sir ...”

“That's an order, Anthea.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I'll have a car come for you in five.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Anthea replies in relief, hugging Sherlock. “Go welcome him home, Sherlock.”

“Thank you, Anthea.” Sherlock replies, managing a small smile. 

x..x

Mycroft pulls up to his home and Sherlock immediately jumps out, running through the door and into the living room.

“Sherlock.” John smiles brightly, limping up to his partner and hugging him tightly.

“John.” Sherlock sighs in relief, his hand finding it's way into John's slightly greying hair.

“I'm home now, baby.” John whispers, kissing his partner's hair.

Greg stops short of the door at the sight of the two of them and smiles, his own partner stopping beside him and gently finding his hand, linking their fingers together.

“Now, tell me. What the hell have you been doing to yourself?” John cries, stepping back and looking his partner up and down. 

“I'm sorry, John. I … I thought you were dead. I … I just … I couldn't cope.” Sherlock sobs, the shudders shaking his small frame.

“Well, I'm home now, love. So we can sort this, can't we?” John replies softly, pulling his partner back into his arms.

Sherlock nods in reply, gripping out to John as though he'll vanish like smoke in the wind. 

“Are you two going to stand there hovering all day or are you _actually_ going to welcome me home?” John grins over Sherlock's shoulder.

Greg grins back, walking into the room and clapping John on the shoulder as the doctor let's go of Sherlock.

Mycroft walks over to his brother and holds his arms out, the younger Holmes practically falling into the welcome embrace.

Greg smiles warmly before grabbing John in a bear hug, “You given me some grey hairs, you have, mate. Have you seen this?”

“Hey! I can't be to blame for _all_ of those.” John grins back, nudging Greg's shoulder. 

“No, our devastatingly handsome Holmes boys gave me a few too.”

“There must be another Holmes then, because surely you can't really be talking about _Mycroft_.” Sherlock smirks, much to the annoyance of his brother.

“You little … At least I'm not an insufferable little brat, Sherlock. You bloody little sod.”

“Oh, here we go.” Greg sighs, rolling his eyes.

“God, I've missed this.” John laughs, nudging Greg.

The pair continue to bicker like children while Greg and John just laugh at their partners.

_There's No Place Like Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and for those of you who are Marvel fans, you'll recognise the code name for John which is Mockingbird. Its a reference to the character Barbara Morse from the Marvel universe who has a Ph-D (a form of doctorate) and is code named Mockingbird. Kind of my sly way of crossing fandoms. Wren is also a reference to Eurasian Wren which is the national bird of England and the smallest of the bird species, a slight nod to Mycroft's minor position in the British Government ;) xxxx


End file.
